Love's Conspiracies
by Willofthewisp
Summary: Ever wonder what took place between our heroes' return to Port Royal and Jack's harrowing escape from the gallows? Admidst the backdrop of political intrigue and a race against time, Jack learns a certain someone is more than meets-the-eye. J/E! w/e, n/e
1. Chapter 1

"Your name?"

"Commodore James Mathias Norrington."

Elizabeth shook her head, grateful for her fan in such a packed courtroom. The excited murmurs and exhales of the spectators, squeezed in so much there were but a handful of people who were not touching someone else, seemed to transform the room into an oven. Mr. Hudson stood apart from the hive like a queen bee, separating them from James. She stood off to the side, waiting for Jack to turn and wink at her, to tell her in some way this was all according to his plan.

"You had chased Mr. Sparrow from here to Isla de Muerta, is that correct?"

She saw Jack flinch and mouth "captain" without a voice.

"That is. He and Mr. Turner were themselves chasing the _Black Pearl._"

"For what purpose?"

"Well," James said, clearing his throat, his jaw set at an uncomfortable degree. "Mr. Turner took it upon himself to…retrieve Miss Swann and enlisted the help of a pirate to do so." His head jerked towards her direction, his eyes showing her nothing but guilt. Elizabeth glanced at Will and then back to James. She knew the trial would be a lost cause, Jack's fate a foregone conclusion, prolonged by only a horde of British gentlemen too fond of tradition. But it still made her clench her fists.

"And so you picked the three of them up and here we stand?" Mr. Hudson mocked.

"Note quite, sir. You see, my ship only tracked down M—Captain Sparrow and Miss Swann. Mr. Turner had been taken by Captain Barbossa into the caverns, leaving their other prisoners marooned. We set the anchor at the mouth of the caverns," James said, interrupting what could have only been another smug comment. "The crew came out. We fought. Captain Sparrow came out soon after with both Mr. Turner and Miss Swann."

"Where was Captain Barbossa?"

"Dead."

"Dead how?"

"Very dead," James said with a gulp. Muffled laughs echoed throughout the room, drowned out by Judge Myers' gavel.

"I will rephrase the question for Commodore Norrington. What were the circumstances that led to Captain Barbossa's death?"

"Captain Sparrow shot him…in self-defense."

"Self defense? Surely one pirate need not fear another pirate? Your compassion must not interfere with the truth, Commodore. Come now. Credit this courtroom with a little intelligence."

"It's the truth!" Elizabeth screamed, the room seeming to whoosh with the amount of heads that suddenly turned to her direction. "You can't possibly be trying him for the murder of another pirate!"

The pounding of the gavel sent a series of shivers coursing through her. Will reached for her hand. Maddening, she thought, averting her father's stare. On their way back up, her eyes caught Jack's, still looking at her and giving her a subtle shake of his head she imagined was his way of saying "shut it." Holding her breath, she waited for another question…and an answer that would hardly be considered.

"So Mr. Sparrow shot Captain Barbossa and fled with his two hostages. Thank you, Commodore. Since Miss Swann seems so anxious to speak, perhaps we should proceed. Miss?"

A guard snaked through those in the crowd unable to find a seat and extended his arm to her. Bunching a handful of her dress, she followed him through all the way to the box. She kept her eyes on the sunshine-drenched windows just past the face of the man asking her to swear to tell the truth. Swallowing, Elizabeth sat down and folded her hands in her lap.

"Your name?"

"Elizabeth Catherine Swann."

"Daughter of the governor. Describe your relationship to Mister Sparrow."

"I had fallen from the fort into the water," she said after a moment's pause. "He dove in and rescued me."

"Aren't you leaving out a few details, Miss Swann, such as what he did after he 'rescued' you?" Mr. Hudson asked, a white caterpillar eyebrow inching its way up his forehead in suspicion. "There was quite an upset on the dock that day, something about using you as a hostage, perhaps?"

"I do not recall…"

"You don't recall Mister Sparrow using his own chains to snatch you from the safety of your father and force his own escape?"

"Jack was arrested that very day…" Her heart hammered against her chest, but all she could do was sigh. To say she made a poor showing was a gross understatement. There was nothing she could say, and her stomach drove that point home to her, churning and fluttering about, nauseating her more than a choppy sea could.

"Jack, you say? Such familiarity. But I do now recall Commodore Norrington picked the two of you up from a desert isle and afterwards he shot a pirate dead."

"And yet murder is not one of his charges!" she snapped.

"Should kidnapping be, Miss Swann? You've heard all the evidence, as have every person in this courtroom. To come up here and tell half-truths wastes their time as well as my own. Mister Sparrow used you, used Mr. Turner, used everyone involved for his own gain and now that he's finally caught, you come up here and essentially render him a saint. Your Honor, I have no more questions for this witness. She's obviously in love with the accused."

Before Elizabeth could even wet her dropped lip, a cynical laugh erupted. She followed it to Jack, smirking right up at her and Judge Myers.

"Let's not forget the dear Commodore defended me," Jack said from his seat, his hands drumming on the table, his chains clanging in accompaniment. "Oh, and I believe Mr. Turner volunteered to take up for me also. Looks like they'll have to fight Miss Swann for my affections."

She felt a small smile begin to prickle, the rest of the courtroom blushing at their own laughter. Jack turned back to her and gave her a nod.

"Silence!" Judge Myers bellowed. "I'll not have anyone turning this man's trial into a free-for-all."

"Does that mean you're in love with me too, Judge?" Jack asked.

"Quiet! Miss Swann, kindly step down, please." The old judge rubbed his temple, his forehead wrinkled. "Mr. Turner?"

Elizabeth shuffled her way back to the side wall. She could feel all their eyes still on her, stories already forming in their minds, and she knew just how imaginative people who were otherwise completely drab could be when gossip reared its pernicious head. Passing James, she recoiled at his attempt to place his hand on her shoulder. Passing Will, he brushed her hand as he went by, his hair pulled back and his only long-sleeved shirt starched. Finally she let her back fall against the cool spot on the wall and flicked open her fan. Her face burned.

"I'm very proud of you, Elizabeth," Father whispered.

"It's all for not."

"We shall see. You made an excellent point, and I'm sure Will's testimony will be contemplated." He patted her and turned his attentions to Will. For the briefest of seconds, she could see herself lashing out at her father, clawing and ripping away at him until there would be nothing left but for her to continue the rampage into the crowd. It must be the heat, she thought. And the injustice. Yes. Injustice simply made the room stifling.

"She would have died had I not gone after her!" The rare sound of Will's voice rising called her out of her violent fantasy. Good, dear Will. Yes. There was just something about him that made you trust whatever he said, that gave you a limitless supply of faith in him.

"Did Commodore Norrington not tell you moments before you aided a pirate that he and his men were starting a rescue party?"

"Mr. Hudson, I have been granted clemency by Governor Swann himself. I cannot have my testimony dismissed by you for abetting a pirate." Will took a breath and Elizabeth clasped her hands together. Will was the last hope. "Jack could have turned me over at any moment and he led everyone to believe he would, but it was for my well-being. He held his end of our bargain, as did I."

* * *

Guilty. Guilty of countless charges, some of the crimes she had never even heard of, and yet Jack had chosen silence when asked if he had anything to say. Maybe by then he just felt it wasn't worth wasting what breath he was still allowed.

Tossing onto her other side, Elizabeth tunneled her hands under her pillow, refusing to blow out the candle. The execution was scheduled for Friday, and while she lied between imported sheets, Jack probably had nothing but a bale of straw smeared in excrement. Wrinkling her nose at the image, she hopped out of bed and threw on her slippers and robe.

* * *

"Will! Will!" The blacksmith shop's second floor never seemed so high to her. She had heard from the townspeople that had she been here fifteen years ago, the streets would be seething with pirates and various other residue. But since James arrived, when most of the people who made up her world arrived, not even a stray cat ran rampant.

"Elizabeth!" She heard his feet sprinting down the rickety steps, through the workshop, and to the front door to let her inside the shop. "What are you doing here?"

"Will, we need to do something. What happened today was a travesty. I can't even put into words…" she trailed off, afraid of the tears that might fall if she continued.

"It's not right. Well then, I best be off to Tortuga."

"You'd go to Tortuga?"

"That's the most likely place I can think of to find Gibbs. Once I tell them Jack's been found guilty and is scheduled for a hanging, they'll have to come for him."

"Will, they took his ship. What makes you think they'll come back for him?"

"I don't know," he whispered, staring at the ground. "Come inside before someone sees you. You shouldn't be here. If Norrington…"

"Leave James to me," she said, harsher than she wanted. "I might still be able to change his mind." She locked eyes with his suspicious ones. "So you'd go to Tortuga? Yes. Yes, that will work. It has to. Come back to the house with me and I'll give you some money. Once you're there and you find them, send one of them to me. Promise them I'll pay them. I'll give the message to Jack and we can work from there. You know how to get him out. You did it before."

"I have a feeling they won't let me within a mile of him."

"We can't worry about that now. Finding Gibbs has to be the first thing. Oh, Will. I'd be lost if it weren't for you!" She lifted her arms to throw around his neck, but remembered her promise to James. In a broken motion, she dropped them back down to her sides. "I could go if you don't want to."

"That's the last place I want to imagine you," Will said, sheathing a sword from one of the tables. "I can get to the harbor tonight and be there by early morning. Of course that probably means I'll have to wait a few hours for everyone to sleep off their drunkenness." He gave her a half-smile. "If I don't make it back in time, you'll have to convince your father or Norrington to make a case for him. Wouldn't it be something if this went all the way up to the king? He wouldn't take our side, but it would certainly buy Jack some time."

"Come back to the house with me. You'll need a place to stay when you get there, and food, and I'm sure you'll have to pay some people for information." She opened the door, her stride widening with every step.

"Elizabeth. I'm not penniless. I can take my own provisions." He opened up one of the barrels in the corner and tightened the strings on a leather bag. "This should be enough to see me through."

"You're stealing from Mr. Brown?"

"No!" he laughed. "This is mine. He's the one who steals from me. I figured I'd hide my money where he'd be the least likely to go…his work." He crossed to her, looking down into her eyes. He tilted his face down to her at the same time she tilted hers up, his lips dangling in front of her. "See what you can do here. Keep a weather eye on the horizon."

The door flew open and he ran off into the night, opposite the direction of the house. Elizabeth glanced up at the sky, no moon tonight. No Will. No justice. Sighing, she began the walk back to her house where Estrella would be waiting at the back door to let her in and listen to her rants. The things being taken by pirates does to you, she thought.

* * *

**A/N: Hi! A few notes. I don't know much about British law, even less about what it was like at this time. I read a few pirate trials from _Under the Black Flag_, which I highly recommend if you have an interest in historical pirates, and they were pretty much just formalities like this one. Because of the time the story takes place, there is some W/E in this story, and even a little bit of N/E, but my readers know me and who my couple is...you won't be disappointed! Please leave a review. More is to come! Oh, and I don't own this kick-ass series. Would I seriously be writing fanfiction if I did?**


	2. Chapter 2

The flittering sensation in Elizabeth's stomach stayed with her through the night and into the following day. By now Will would be in Tortuga, probably dodging shards of glass and pistol barrels. Oh yes, think of Will's death. That should settle your nerves, she scolded herself, sitting in the parlor of James' house, his chessboard between them.

"Elizabeth, I can't help but wonder if something is bothering you." His fingers enveloped her knight and replaced it with his bishop. "I don't usually win so easily."

"You know what's wrong," she said, refusing to let his self-deprecation stir any sympathy.

"At least you aren't the sort that hides how she truly feels. They found him guilty. There is nothing more I can do."

"That's such a bloody lie, James, and you know it! Father worships you. If you were to speak to him, change his mind…"

"…I have no intention of looking after some duplicitous degenerate who gorges himself in rotgut." It astonished Elizabeth at how hushed, how calm the tone was for an interruption. "You're asking me to take the side of everything I've worked so hard at keeping away from Port Royal. You realize you can't ask that of someone, Elizabeth. It may or may not be a fortunate outcome, but it is what it is. The best you can hope for right now is that Sparrow either escapes or makes peace with God. Checkmate."

His chin dropped down into his hand. Her captured pawns lay in a neat row next to his elbow, forming a white marble barrier between them. Picking her king up by the crown, she held it out to him. Where was Estrella? She pushed what few pieces were left on her side in James' direction and began setting up the black pieces as her own.

"I'm certainly not trying to upset you, Elizabeth."

"I know."

"I shall be thankful when this whole affair is over when we'll have other matters to be concerned about."

She stared at him, knowing the primness, the bearing, to all be habit rather than instinct. Since they had all arrived to the Caribbean together, James practically lived in the Governor's house. It was the same man who stood behind her New Year's Day and motioned for her father and the servants to sing _Here We Come A-wassailing_ with the two of them, the same man who took her out on the _Dauntless _and taught her how to sail. She sighed. She really should be looking forward to the "other matters."

"Miss?"

"There you are!" Elizabeth leapt out of her chair and glided to Estrella, biting her lip to keep from blurting out "where have you been." Time froze when she grasped the envelope from her maid. "Well, James. I really must be going. I'm positive I will see you tonight." She swayed back to him and pecked his cheek. There really was no sense in being angry at a friend, not when the matter which made her angry was about to be closed.

* * *

The painful odor of urine drifted between the bars of every cell in the jail, making it impossible to pinpoint the origin. Jack propped himself up on the jutting stones of the wall to stay upwind of the filth and glanced out the window. It was the same window he'd looked through when the _Pearl _had finally decided to stare back at him, and now she was gone again. What had Gibbs been thinking? If he compensated Anamaria with the _Pearl_…

"What are you doing?"

Climbing down, he took his time turning his head. That was the voice of his rum-burner. Lizzie. Lizzie Swann. Lizzie the rum-burner.

"Can't say I enjoy the stench." Black was not her color, he thought, pursing his lips at her dress, but the pail and basket in her hands provided decent-enough distractions. "Didn't bring William with ye by chance, did ye?"

"No, but I have wonderful news." She set the pail down and gripped the bars of his cell. "He's gone to Tortuga to find your ship. They'll come back and get you before Friday."

"Ye might have just said you brought William with ye, though I don't know what he'd do about this once he took care of those bars for me." He gestured at the manacle clamped onto his leg, the short chain leading to the wall across from the bars. "You wouldn't have happened to have seen a little dog running around?"

"Jack. I already have a note from Will," she said, shuffling through the basket. "I had it on top…Here!" She bit her lip, looking as if she needed to stop from giggling. Tearing it open, she traced her fingertips over the script. "'Dearest Elizabeth, I arrived in Tortuga exactly when we said I would. There is at this time, however, no sign of Mister Gibbs or the _Pearl_. I have looked for any familiar face that belonged to the crew, but no luck yet. Keep trying to persuade your father and Norrington and I hope to see you soon.'"

Jack nodded. The fact that Gibbs would know enough to not stay in one place for too long must have been a no-never-mind to them. He watched her arms plop to her sides, the muscles in them he knew she had seeming to evaporate into thin air.

"Guess you should have read it to yourself first," Jack said.

"Yes. I'm sorry," she said in a broken tone.

"What's the pail for?"

"Oh. I'll just set it right here." She nudged it closer to his bars, some water spilling out of it. "I brought a sponge from home for you. It's in there. Also…" Rifling through her basket again, Elizabeth produced item after item, naming each one. "I brought you some bread, cheese…you'll want to eat that sooner than later." He could smell it from where he was. "A pack of cards. I would have brought you needlepoint if I didn't think you'd be caught dea—if I thought you'd get some pleasure out of it. It keeps my hands busy, anyway."

"Let's get out the cards." He extended his hand through the bars and waited for her to set the deck in his palm. He took a seat on the floor and began to shuffle, the black hem of her dress swaying like a stage curtain when she folded her legs and sat across from him. Jack laid six cards face-up between them, the bars suspended over them. Only about twenty seconds to memorize them since there were only two of them playing. "You do know this one, right?" He waited for her to nod before gathering them up, shuffling them, and dealing them out. In his hand, the queen of spades, the six of hearts, and the eight of hearts stared back at him.

"They really ought to put numbers on some of these," she sighed. Not a bad idea when one had the seven, eight, nine, or ten of something. There had been a seven when he had laid the cards out…

"Seven of clubs," he said.

"You dealt! It was my turn!" his rum-burner screeched, taking the seven of clubs from her hand and laying it with the rest of the deck. "I thought you knew how to play cards."

"I do."

"Well, then you're a cheater."

"Pirate, love. Are you going to go or not?"

"Queen of spades."

Face cards were always easier to memorize, he thought, taking out his queen and returning her to her deck. Tie game and not one dare. He knew the other two in her hand, the three of diamonds and the five of spades.

"Six of spades."

"I'm afraid not," Elizabeth said, her eyebrows both raised in a beaming sort of way. "I believe that puts me in the lead."

"You don't do dares with this game?"

"What would I dare you to do? You're in a cell. That vastly limits my choices."

Jack knew she had an imagination, but also knew she horded it as if it would all be gone one day, one day when she would truly need it. There was something a little endearing and more than a little irritating she horded it over a simple card game and thought nothing of unleashing it over a simple thing like being marooned.

"Nine of hearts."

"Not a player, darling, and since you so maliciously made light of the fact I remain in a cell, immune from any dare-taking, I shall have to dare you to take a dare to be in turn malicious and punish you for making light of the fact I remain in a cell and immune from livening this game up with any dare taking." Not waiting for her to register any of that, he continued. "Now what could I have you do?" What indeed? _Una situazione intrigante._

"Miss Elizabeth!" he heard a breathless voice cry out from the other end of the jail. He lodged his face in one of the little windows the bars made at the same time Elizabeth raked in the deck of cards and jumped up, the heel of her shoe sliding against a stray piece of straw. Her maid, clutching her heart when she reached Elizabeth, tucked the loose strands of black hair back into her cap. "Your father sent me a message. He and Commodore Norrington are coming to the house! We best get you back there. If they were…" At the sight of Jack, the maid froze, a unique blend of fear and fascination on her bird-like face.

"Like what ye see?" he made sure to slur more than usual, weaving his arm through the bars and inches away from her shoulder. Extending her back leg, she glided several feet away from him.

"I'll be along, Estrella. Thank you," Elizabeth said, nodding at the door. Estrella's hands flew up to cover her blushing cheeks, giving a nod in gratitude before departing. "Do you enjoy putting people in difficult positions, Jack?"

"More often than not, they are the ones who enjoy my putting them in difficult positions," he said, taking advantage of the light tone with which she had asked the question. She scrunched up her lips to try to prevent blushing. Well, leave it to William and the Commodore to pretend such things never happened. "So you'll be leaving me, will ye?"

"I'll be back tomorrow, hopefully with actual news." Her side now facing him, she bent down to pick up her basket.

_L__a separazione è tale dispiacere dolce. _"Leaving without kissing me goodbye? And you call yourself a lady."

He memorized the second-long chest heave, neck cock, and eyes widen before she pouted her lips and composed herself. "You haven't done anything deserving of a kiss, Captain Sparrow." Picking up her skirts, she marched out of his line of sight. "Oh, and don't go anywhere, seeing as I'll be back tomorrow."

Ha ha ha ha ha, Jack thought, letting himself fall back into the clean pile of hay he'd done his best to separate from the rest of his environment earlier. I would if I could.

* * *

**A/N: This was a fun chapter to write. . is the link that explains the game Jack and Elizabeth play and gives me some research about the history of card games, which I love to play. The Italian in this chapter translates to "an intriguing situation" and "parting is such sweet sorrow." Love it or hate it, only a review will let me know. **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hello! The url from the last chapter didn't work, so if you are interested in where I got my research, there is a US history webpage that has a section of colonial cards and card games. I find this whole time period so intriguing. The song in this chapter is _Heart of Oak_, written in 1759. I don't have an exact year for when the movies are supposed to take place, but I figure I'm good if it's before the American Revolution. If it turns out to be an anachronism, well, happens to the best of us. Love it or hate it, let me know!**

* * *

The smoky glow of the pub that forced his eyes to squint did nothing for Will's headache, the smells of rum, blood, gunpowder, and body odor stirring together in the atmosphere to create a new, colossal redolence. All that was missing was the uneven rocking that came with being at sea, Will thought, before he corrected himself. Being at sea on the way to Tortuga was nothing compared to fighting for one's life against the _Black Pearl _on the _Interceptor_, depending on launched silverware for mere survival. Climbing up the rickety stairs of one of the pubs, his necklace bobbed to and fro against his chest, drowning out the increasing rhythm of his heartbeat.

"How many and for how long?" a fat-armed woman whose dress stretched over her paunch barked at him at the top of the steps.

"No, I'm looking for someone."

"We take requests, ye know. Some of the sailors like my Judith. Others just ask for Minnie. You look like a Molly boy to me." She wagged her finger at him, her upper lip twitching at the prospect of making a sale. Was it called a sale? Will's eyes weren't as innocent as his vocabulary. The nights Mr. Brown went out to a brothel or brought one of the harlots back with him outnumbered the nights he went to sleep alone.

"Could I just search your rooms? I'm looking for a crew that might have had the pleasure of being your customers." He dangled his sack of coins in front of her.

"Oh! Well. Pleasure should definitely be the name of this place. Follow me. We'll just go one at a time." She pulled a set of keys from her endless cleavage and motioned for him to follow her down the hall. "Girls! Mama's comin' in!"

The first room she locked was empty. Will suctioned his eyes to the threadbare carpet while she unlocked the next one.

"This inebriate one of yer crew, boy?"

Inside a room filled with statues of tigers, a man tripped out of the black and orange bed trying to put his trousers back on, only the woman's figure under the blankets providing any evidence he wasn't alone.

"No."

Slamming the door shut, the madam waddled along to the third door. She knocked this time. "Lydia? Lydia? Ye got someone in there with ye?"

"One second!" a shrill voice from the other side tugged at Will's ears.

"Madam, I could wait at the bottom of the staircase if…"

"Nonsense! This is Tortuga, lad. My business becomes everyone's business." With a wheeze and a few unsure footfalls, Gibbs stumbled out of Lydia's door right between the madam and Will. "This one of them?"

"Will?" Gibbs asked, rubbing his eyes. "Will! Didn't think I'd be seeing you so soon. What brings you to Tortuga, hm?"

"Gibbs," Will began, looking over at the madam. "Where's the _Pearl_?"

"Docked in Anamaria's shipyard, of course!" He beckoned Will closer and whispered, "I let her think she'd get to keep it until I could commandeer another one."

"And how's the commandeering going?" Will asked, making sure to make it sound like a scolding. Didn't these pirates know anything? Had they learned nothing from the fact that Jack kept everyone in the dark about his plans until it was almost too late? It was a wonder sometimes how they remained one of the world's greatest threats.

"Well, er…"

"You have to come back to Port Royal with me. Jack's scheduled to hang."

"What?"

"Jack'll be hanged if we don't go back. There's no hope of a pardon for him."

"Bloody hell. I didn't even know he'd been captured!" Gibbs sputtered out. "Lucky for you I got everybody right here. Lads! We're settin' sail tonight! Get out of those girls and get out the door! How ye been besides, Will? I'll have ye know there's a mighty number of girls here wantin' a piece of the blacksmith that helped free the _Black Pearl _and kill Barbossa." Placing his arm around him, Gibbs took a sip out of his flask while they headed back to the top of the stairs. "Ah, but 'spect you'll be proposin' to Miss Elizabeth or some proper lady, right? Right. Come on, boys! Snap to! Sometimes I tell ye, I got less tolerance for them than ol' Bartholomew Roberts had for the drink."

"What's happened?" Anamaria said, buttoning her vest in the threshold of the fourth door. Will dropped his sack. "Oh, it's the Turner boy. Change your mind about going pirating?"

"Hardly. I just came to deliver the news Jack's been captured and needs his crew to come and get him before they make his execution a public event." Panting, Will folded his arms at the realization he had said it all in one breath, erasing the internal image of Anamaria and another woman…

"I got my compensation from him with the _Pearl_." Hands on her hips, she swung them on her way to him. "I'd have to expect a lot more in exchange for his life."

"We'll get you two ships if you'll let him have the _Pearl_," Will snapped, feeling as if his brain were boiling. "Why does everyone have to everything for a cost? Why can't someone just do something because it needs done?"

"Reciprocity," she said, spanking him. "Don't sass at me again. Gibbs, you think this crew can handle a Norrington-led hanging?"

"Sure as you're born, my dear. What's keeping everyone?" Gibbs and Will's necks twisted from side to side, searching for even the barest trace of a silhouette in the shady brothel that smelled of citrus, gin, and hookah. The sudden burst of a gunshot broke the temporary silence, leaving a smoking hole in the wall behind them. Without saying a word to one another, Will, Gibbs, and Anamaria drew their weapons and raced down the stairs into the pub. Will squinted to see a figure rush out the door, stuffing a pistol back into his coat.

"Outside!" he shouted to Gibbs and Anamaria without looking back. Pushing through muslin skirts and splintery tables, Will took a deep inhale when he broke through to the outside, fresh air compared to in the pub. To his left, then to his right, and back to his left, he found the same figure. "Stop!"

So it was to be a chase, he thought. Dashing through the staggering crowd, he looked back to see a shuck of Anamaria's hair zigzagging close behind him. The sound of the hornpipes faded out of earshot once Will turned into an alleyway. This is stupid, this is stupid, he thought, skidding to a stop. If the shadows failed to conceal his prey, the stacked barrels and crates could, each one dripping with the juice of rotting meat. Will covered his nose with his sleeve. It couldn't be a coincidence, the entire crew missing save for two and then a man trying to shoot him, shrouded even for Tortuga standards. He sighed. There was nothing to do but return to Gibbs and Anamaria and begin a conventional search.

"Going somewhere, sir?" Will could scarcely make out the accented hissing, a pistol pointed right between his eyes. He could hear footsteps behind him. Yes, he confirmed, the barrels and crates could definitely conceal a person.

* * *

"Father? What's wrong?" Elizabeth had taken the tea tray from Fisher, the old man still struggling with stairs since he'd been shot the night of Barbossa's siege. Stepping into the library, she nearly stumbled into the rolling ladder when she spotted her father with his head in his hands.

"Oh! I didn't mean to startle you, Elizabeth. Is that for me?" he asked, pointing to the tea. She set his cup down in front of him and took a seat in one of the massive high-backed chairs, clutching the teacup with both hands. "Thank you. I've received some unsettling news."

"Concerning what?" she gulped, hiding the fear in her voice with a slurp of her tea. He knew! He knew Will had gone to Tortuga. He knew she had been conspiring with Jack! Estrella. He probably suspected her and the poor dear was never able to convincingly tell a lie…

"My time as governor may soon be at an end."

"Oh," she breathed. "Oh? What do you mean?"

"Apparently, your pirate friend has made some enemies in high places." He passed her a folded letter with the most ornate scarlet seal Elizabeth had ever seen. Opening it, she blinked at the curvy, narrow script.

"That is from Sir Cutler Beckett, on his way to becoming Lord if he gets his way," Father said. "He wants to personally see to Captain Sparrow's hanging in addition to moving his office here."

"Office?"

"He is the head of the East India Trading Company, my dear."

"Good lord!" she spat. "The very head? Well, at least it's not from the king. But what have you to be worried about? He's a businessman from the sound of it." The total cost of however much Jack had pillaged over the course of his "career" made her head spin. Enough so the East India Trading Company had a personal interest in making sure he was properly executed? Legends of Jack neared mythical proportion, she knew, but there had to be other pirates in the world who had plundered more, gained more, made the ancient pirates of Caesar's time look like petty bandits.

"A businessman who is quite close to the king. Elizabeth, if he comes here, he could subvert us right out of this house, especially if…" he stopped, suddenly sipping his tea.

"If what? If Jack escapes? Father." She scooted the chair closer to him. "Do you believe he should be hanged?"

Her father leaned forward, stretching his arm over his desk to take her hand. "You might have…no. You would have surely died had he not been there. For that, I am eternally grateful to the man. No. I don't wish him to be hanged."

There was a long enough pause for Elizabeth to consider divulging Will's whereabouts to him. To have the governor himself assist in the escape mission would surely secure success. She opened her mouth.

"But," Father said. "His trial was before the trials of that blasted crew Commodore Norrington caught that night. Ensuring every last one of them hanged could reassure the king my placement here has caused piracy to drop. I know what you're going to say. I know Norrington is the one behind all that, but you'll find, Elizabeth, with leaders' privilege of taking credit for their subordinates' work comes the curse of paying for their mistakes."

"You want a good man to hang to secure your position?" It didn't sound like Father. Didn't sound like him at all. Gripping the arms of the chair, she prepared to pull herself up and storm out of the room.

"How dare you! I have worked and worked to have enough moral fiber to be an example for you, refusing overindulgence, spirits, slaves—I would never want anyone to be killed for my own gain!" He stood up from his chair, forcing Elizabeth to gaze up at him, her eyes wide at this new enthrallment. "But my job here is to enforce the law in a lawless society. Norrington catches the pirates, and it is my duty to see they pay for their crimes. I would rather Captain Sparrow…"

"…Jack."

"…Jack." Her father gritted his teeth. "I'd rather he spend the rest of his life behind bars than hang, but my dear, his death will set the precedent for Port Royal. We do not harbor pirates and we have no tolerance for them. I know you feel differently."

"Yes," she whispered, breathing a sigh of relief at the knowledge that, at the very least, her father was still the most decent individual she ever knew, one of the only people she knew that, come Judgment Day, could hold his head up high.

"Then pray for a miracle, my dear." He crossed over to her and kissed her forehead. "Captain Sparrow certainly has been in grave situations like this before, and he's always been able to escape them. Now, not saying one day he'll finally meet his match, but until then…I just don't feel he'll go out with a 'short drop and sudden stop,' as it's called." He held her chin and looked into her eyes. "Besides, we have so much to look forward to. Let's not forget you'll soon get to know the joys of marriage."

Nodding her head, her lips latched onto each other, unable to let out any speech. Will had to get back tomorrow, had to! She wrung her hands all the way back to her room. Opening her window, she listened to the rushing sound of the waves wash onto the beach. She closed her eyes, thinking back to England, holding hands with her mother while they strolled across the surf without shoes. Elizabeth had to scamper to keep up with Cora Swann's graceful, dancer-like movements. Tonight, she lay her head at the end of the bed where she usually lay her feet, bringing her head as close to the window as she could to listen to the waves combined with the memory of her mother's low, informal voice.

_Come cheer up my lads, it's to glory we steer,  
To add something more to this wonderful year.  
To honor we call you, as free men, not slaves,  
For who are so free as the sons of the waves._

_Heart of oak are our ships,  
Heart of oak are our men.  
We always are ready,  
Steady, boys, steady,  
We'll fight and we'll conquer, again and again. _

_Our worthy forefathers, let's give them a cheer,  
To climates unknown did courageously steer.  
Through oceans to deserts, for freedom they came,  
And dying, bequeathed us their freedom and fame._


	4. Chapter 4

Midmorning and no sign of Lizzie, Jack sighed, trampling back to the far wall of his cell, his chain grinding against the floor on his way back. He debated whether it would be better for her to come soon so he could stop waiting, or for her to come later so he would be spared having to spend the rest of the day without her. That pail would need refilled, he thought when the light caught it, the sponge now wedged in at the bottom of it.

At last footsteps grew louder and louder, nearing his cell. Springing up, he gripped the bars with both hands and pressed his head between them. Snap out of it, bloody idiot. Jack took a few steps backward. It's no better than a dog wagging its tail.

"Morning, Jack."

Mercer stepped out from the shadows into one of the rays pouring in from the window, the entirety of his bony face curling up into a smirk.

"It was," Jack said, knowing the color had drained from his face. The savage glee in the man's voice hadn't changed. "Beckett send ye to do the government's dirty work?"

"Is that why you think I'm here?" Mercer laughed. "I'm here to make sure this great act actually happens." He paced on the other side of the bars, one hand holding the other behind his back. "Have to make sure Governor Swann hasn't gone soft or that ye haven't gone more balmy than you was when your crew left ye on that island and try to escape."

"So he didn't trust ye to carry out his plans then." Jack slid back towards the bars, holding his breath.

"I's just an observer, Jack, until you try something funny. But why would ye? Your mind's gone, they say. No ship, no crew, no young blacksmith around to make deals with. Ye got nothing, Jack." Before Jack could even raise an eyebrow at how he knew about Will, Mercer pounced at the cell bars. "Just remember—survive this, and we'll have to make sure ye don't survive nothing else." With a squeak of his boot pivoting, Mercer spun back out of Jack's line of sight, leaving only his footsteps to pound on Jack's brain. Finally exhaling, he squatted down, his hands holding up his head. The cell suddenly felt so much smaller. Eight years of staying just under Beckett's nose, eight years of keeping his search for the dead man's chest as covert as could be, eight years of his piracy kept to a minimum just to avoid capture—all about to become as far from him as the _Pearl _was. The _Pearl_. It was her fault. No, it was another female's fault. Tia Dalma. Calypso. He'd gone completely out of his way of finding the key just for a ship and ended up with nothing, just as Mercer said. He had nothing.

"Jack?"

His eyes widened. He ran to the bars. Lizzie. He had Lizzie.

She was almost close enough where he could reach through the bars, cup her cheeks, and pull her to him.

"Jack, what's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I need a knife." Yes! A knife. Small, flat…could be concealed much easier than a pistol…would make less noise, too.

"What?"

"A knife, love. I need you to bring me a knife." She was usually so smart.

"Now?" Her eyes were like saucers, the rosiness of her cheeks fading.

"Please, Elizabeth. Please bring me a knife. Please. I'll make it up to ye, I promise. Please." He was going to be sick. About to hang in two days, his soul on loan, courtesy Davy Jones, Beckett back in his life. The bars seemed to gel together, the nausea beginning to overtake him. If he could just have any weapon at all, he knew it would grant him peace of mind. If he could just cup her face…

"All right. It's going to be all right." She stroked his knuckles, her voice calling for his stomach to go back down his throat. "Don't worry. It's all right. I'll be back in a few minutes." Patting his hand, Elizabeth let her fingers be dragged off of his, her feet taking her back to the long corridor, out the door, and back to her mansion.

* * *

"I believe you are acquainted with Monsieur Gibbs and Mademoiselle Ana, Monsieur Turner?" the man with the pistol led Will back into the street, the oil lamps revealing a pale face more painted than half the whores he'd questioned during his search for Gibbs_. _

"What do you want?" Will snapped. From the corner of his eye, he could see a smaller man with a pistol pointed right at Gibbs and Anamaria.

"You, _mon bon monsieur_. You. Capitaine Pons Chevalle, Pirate Lord and the Spear of Destiny in wretched Spain's side." He drew out the last word, a nasal laugh accompanying it. "But we have other matters at hand, such as the fact I have your crew."

"Leave it to a loathsome Frenchman!" Gibbs barked. "Shanghai Captain Jack Sparrow's crew, will ye? Ye won't get away with it!"

"Oh, I have every intention of letting them go about their merry lives with their _dames de la soirée._ All I need in return is Mr. Turner."

Before Will could speak, more of Captain Chevalle's crew leapt out from the alleys and began dragging them down the street. What did they want with him? He had no money, not enough to make any difference to anyone, anyway. He had no information. Even with a pistol barrel jammed between his shoulder blades and a gargantuan man stepping all over his heels, he dared to hope it could be related to his father, if that Pintel fellow could be believed.

"The captain's in over his head if you ask me," the giant said to the other one, pulling Gibbs and Anamaria towards the harbor. Will could see a ship wafting out at the pier.

"Don't let him hear you say that, bargaining with her of all people. Only one other soul I knew to be so daft and that be George Bruns."

Something from Will's childhood, those stolen happy moments when Elizabeth would come to visit him and convince him to sneak away from the shop and go on an adventure called to him. It was the day after Commodore Norrington had taught her to sail. She had taken both his hands and ran down a pier like this one with the most unladylike strides. They hopped onto a ship and sailed it all around the world without it ever leaving the harbor.

"Did you say George Bruns?"

* * *

Angel. Guardian angel, his mind kept repeating, brushing his fingers over the smooth blade. It hadn't been until Elizabeth set it in his hands that his heartbeat slowed to normal. Her maid followed her in, this time avoiding his eyes. She handed off a folded note to Elizabeth and left. It had to be a letter from Will.

"I wanted to open it here so you could read his words yourself. I thought it might make you feel better." She tore open the letter and unfolded it. "'Dearest Elizabeth, I have paid this runner more than the last one to make certain you hear from me soon. Gibbs, Anamaria, and myself have run into a bit of trouble, but it is nothing for you to worry about. Fortunately, I've found a boy who responds well to bribery to still give you my letters. Elizabeth, I respect and admire you too much to keep what I have heard from you. Unfortunately, the rumors your mother heard were all true about George Bruns. He was caught and hanged before you were even a year old. It grieves me to have to tell you such news…'" Her tone and her face remained flat, stoic, but Jack could see her bite her lip. "Never mind," she said, crumpling up the letter.

"Who's George Bruns?"

"Never mind, Jack."

"Lizzie."

"When my mother was expectant with me," she said, her eyes snapped shut, "she was kidnapped and taken aboard a ship. This was back in England. They had taken several people from the town, all lords or dukes or their wives. George Bruns was assigned to look after them. When he learned of my mother's condition…" She looked up at him, for a brief moment, without the fire normally swelling in them. "He helped her escape."

"And taught her a memorable song?" he guessed, wishing for her to come closer to the bars. A silent nod of the head answered him.

"It was supposed to make you feel better, the note," Elizabeth whispered, her eyelashes swatting away any budding tears.

"When did all that happen?"

"I told you. Before I was born."

"No, no. When were you born, darling?" He didn't know why he wanted to know. Being trapped in the same place for so long tends to make one's mind wonder. The thought hit him last night when he took the sponge she gave him and washed the brand singed into his flesh, right after thinking about what life would have been like had he been born a girl, named Bob, born in France, and born ten years earlier than when he really was—in that order, and right before thinking how impossibly stunning Lizzie would look unclothed.

"Oh. The twenty-sixth of March."

"I missed it." About to…whatever it had been flew out of his head when she let her forehead rest on the bars, curled locks of her hair, accented with just a few sun streaks now, flinging themselves from the safety of her shoulders into his cell. Catching one, he wound it through his fingers, the softest thing he'd touched since, well, her. Jack sensed her shiver, but needed more time before turning his eyes towards her face. There was something about this Lizzie Swann, something about those combatant eyes and this silky hair and this tendency to take matters into her own delicate hands—something about the entirety of her was most inconveniently addictive.

"Jack," she whispered with pouting lips, her fingers once again running over his knuckles. "I'll have to go soon."

"Kiss me goodbye," he said in a whisper to match hers, still stroking her hair. It took a lifetime for Lizzie to close her eyes and tilt her face up to his. His bottom lip fell from his top. She was going to let him. She was really going to let him. Tightening his grip on the bars, his hand twitching from her touch, Jack closed his eyes.

"Elizabeth, I need you to come with me."

Jack's eyes snapped open. Untangling his fingers out of her hair, he pulled his hand back so fast he almost brought her head right into the bars. Clasping her hands together, Elizabeth straightened her back and gave a positively neutral smile to Commodore Norrington, now inches from them both.

"James. I'm surprised you knew where to find me," Elizabeth said, taking his arm. Jack smiled. She was smooth.

"Yes. I stopped by the house. Estrella said you had taken up administering to the prisoners." Jack sat back down in his cell, stifling the desire to laugh. "I'd like you to come into town with me. There is someone I'd like you to meet."

"Of course."

"There may be someone who can help…everyone," the Commodore said to Jack's back. "Do you hear me, Sparrow?"

"Quite well, mate," he answered, coving his ears. "Mighty seemingly altruistic of you. Now, if you'll excuse us, there was one last item Miss Swann wished to administer to me."

True, part of why he said it was to watch her face go red, and the mouth dropping open at the same time her forehead wrinkled into a scowl proved to be priceless. Curtsying to him, actually curtsying, Elizabeth nodded goodbye to him and walked out of his limited line of sight. It was really a primal instinct, Jack thought, relieved he could still identify it and name it as such, tightening his fists at the sight of her on someone else's arm. He rubbed his eyes and pulled himself up to the window. Lord, that girl was a poison, he thought, and he was halfway through the bottle already.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, a lot of little notes here. First off, I'm sure my 6 weeks of it in junior high school has made my French as spotty as my Italian. These should translate to "my good sir" and "ladies of the night." Internet translators for you. George Bruns is the name of the man who wrote the actual song, "A Pirate's Life For Me." The name has a classic feel to it so I felt it a good way to honor him. Please read my "The Pirate in Her" if you wish to know more about that backstory. Lastly, I used Keira Knightley's actual birthday for Elizabeth's. I wanted to keep her an Aries. Okay, so I don't own this trilogy, but I would love to hear what you think of my take on it. Cheers!**


	5. Chapter 5

Both Elizabeth's hands flew up to shield her eyes from the searing sunlight, her hat more impractical than even she could have suspected. Blasted heavy skirts and silly bonnets that do nothing, she thought with gritted teeth, repositioning her arm to interweave it in James's.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"Sir Beckett has arrived. If your father is right in his thinking that the king sent him here to subvert him, he may be the only chance Sparrow has, which is slim, Elizabeth. Don't get your hopes up during the course of this meeting."

She rolled her tongue in her mouth to prevent herself from asking why James would even bother, but that tasted too much like biting the hand that fed her.

"You know I would never try to control you, Elizabeth, but in the future, I expect you'll do me the courtesy of having a little more decorum when you feel like 'administering' to those less fortunate than ourselves," James said, locking his elbows and knees, the muscles in his forearm tensing beneath her fingers. Elizabeth snapped her head back to view only what was straight in front of her, her cheeks and ears boiling with rage and something else she couldn't quite place.

Their stroll quickened into a march upon approaching a massive white building with Grecian columns wider than three of her waists. Her free arm stretched out to one, the tip of her middle finger brushing the rough stone.

"With a building like this it would seem this Beckett has nothing to gain by taking over Father's position," she said, pouting her lips as soon as she finished for confiding in him once again. Habit, nothing more. You can still be angry with him.

"Your father has always been in good standing with the king," James said, relaxing his arm. His free hand patted her own before interlocking her fingers with his. "I didn't mean to worry you."

Shown inside by a butler, they followed him down sapphire tiles and vaulted ceilings to a corner office, a fireplace on the same wall as the door. The wall across from them remained an overwhelming beige save for a few painted outlines at the top resembling the coastline of Canada and Russia and all the mysteries that lay north of the two. Even with the rest of the wall plain, the sheer size of it caught their eyes before the rich Baroque desk.

"Ah. Forgive me for being so base I could not greet such visitors as yourselves at the door myself," a voice said behind them. A lean, slight man with lips and eyes both tilted upwards in smug confidence took his time approaching them. A taller, more leathery man behind him crossed from the doorway to a chair near the narrow window with the deliberate paces of a wild cat stalking a gazelle. "Commodore Norrington, I've met. Who may I ask is your company?"

Elizabeth could not hear her own name announced, her eyes staring into the soulless ones of the man in the chair, like two black cufflinks. He stared back, his bottom lip jutting out slightly, a knowing eyebrow raised. Fidgeting with her shawl, she let more of it fall down onto her collarbone as she shuddered. To lock eyes with such a man, even for a second, left her feeling physically violated, like his stare was really a study of how he could torture her in the most satisfying way for him. It was a far cry from the comforting sensation she felt when Will stared at her, just as intently. No. If she looked at him any longer, she would be undeniably raped by evil.

"Miss Swann," she blurted, casting her gaze back onto Beckett, knowing she missed her social cue.

"Yes, the Commodore mentioned that," Beckett said, kissing her hand. "Now, to what do I owe the pleasure of two such prestigious visitors? Don't mind Mr. Mercer, Miss Swann. He oversees nearly everything that goes on in this room, just as he had overseen nearly everything that went on in our last office, isn't that right?" She knew the man was nodding his head, probably recalling many fond memories of acts that she could barely fathom.

"It's in regards to one of my prisoners, sir," James said.

"If you're here to discuss the good Captain Sparrow, Commodore, I'm afraid you'll find me a little biased in the matter." Beckett stopped to smile, his thin lips curling. "You see I have very much been looking forward to seeing his hanging. Unless, of course, you came here to discuss bumping up his execution?"

"Sir, in situations such as his, well, for almost any pirate that would be fortunate enough to be captured rather than killed in a battle," Norrington coughed, leaving Elizabeth grimacing at his awkward rant. "Circumstances could exist which would mean that in exchange for information, good deeds done, etcetera, a pirate could be granted a lesser sentence, or perhaps, a pardon."

"And what good deed has Jack done lately?" Beckett laughed. "Sacked another port without bothering to fire a shot? Cost me another one of my ships and countless English pounds of cargo? Given Port Royal a new reason to live in absolute fear?"

"He's brought Captain Barbossa's crew to justice," Elizabeth said, her heart pounding at the effort she put into choosing her words. "Commodore Norrington now has a whole crew of prisoners. I take it, sir, you've heard stories of the infamous _Black Pearl_? Surely if not, you must have heard how savage Barbossa was."

"I have heard of Barbossa, Miss Swann, and it might surprise you to know the very reason that monstrous vagabond was out of my custody in the first place was because of Jack Sparrow. I suppose he did pay for that bad decision, though, what with his mutiny. Now, if you'll both excuse me…"

"What about, perhaps, the saving of a life?" James entreated, taking a step forward. Beckett now sat at his desk, looking up at them both with a glimmer of amusement. This was not a man to be bargained with, Elizabeth thought, dreading where the conversation would go. She caught her hands playing with a lock of hair her shawl caught. Tossing it behind her, she waited.

"Don't tell me yours, Commodore?"

"No, that of the only child of the most powerful man in the Caribbean."

Beckett's eyes shifted to her and she could see every cog inside his head turning, each one well oiled and determined.

"Is that right?"

"Myself and William Turner were captives of Barbossa," she said, avoiding any mentioning of the fort. "My kidnapper's body now rots in a cavern thanks to Captain Sparrow. If word were to get out you hanged a hero instead of a pirate…"

"Then people would grow so upset with me they would forego all their sugar, cotton, slaves, opium, and tea?"

"You can't hang him for your own motives," James argued. "If it were any other pirate…"

"If it were any other pirate, I'd let you hang the damned nuisance and be done with it, but since it is Jack Sparrow we are talking about, I'm going to take extra pleasure in knowing you've done your duty in executing someone who's criminal record could probably fill this wall behind me. Now, I must ask you both to leave. If you do not see fit to do so, I shall ask Mr. Mercer to escort you out."

"James, could I speak to Sir Beckett alone?" she asked, not taking her eyes off of Beckett. She knew plenty of other things that could be incentives when justice could not, and she could afford every last one of them. "Please?"

"You can wait outside the door, Commodore, if it makes you more comfortable." Beckett rose, giving Mercer a look before glancing back at James. At least he seemed intrigued by what she might say.

"I'll be right outside the door," James whispered to her. She waited for the door to close.

"All right. What is it you want?"

"Want, Miss Swann?"

"I'm not normally a negotiating person, Sir Beckett, but as stated, I am the only child of the most powerful man in the Caribbean. And as such, I know he's the only direct employer of the king I know who cannot be bought."

"Which implies that I can be," he said with a smirk.

"I'm also not a judging person. I don't think you would steal from your own ships, but is it possible just once, that a shipment of opium looked a little tempting to you? Maybe Spanish doubloons? I can afford and am willing to give you anything save my virtue and my father's position."

"Charming."

"You want more than what you have. I can tell. There is something out there you want and it's killing you that you can't have it. Say the word."

"And promise you Captain Sparrow's life."

"That would define a bargain, sir, a reward for both parties."

"My dear, do you command the waves?"

"No," Elizabeth said, cocking her head at such a question.

"Then you cannot be of service to me, although I will not say you are not of interest to me." He looked once again at Mercer, and she once again avoided that direction. "Get out."

Elizabeth turned, biting her lip in defeat. That disobedient lock made its way back to her fingers. They stroked it and curled it out the door, Elizabeth noticing several pokers at the fireplace on the way out.

* * *

Hours earlier…

Led into the brig of the enormous ship, Will's eyes adjusted to the darkness, the whites of the crews' eyes forming a sharp contrast to the dank surroundings.

"Women, it seems, are the weakness of every pirate, no?" Captain Chevalle laughed, tucking a lace handkerchief back into his sleeve.

"Captain," Will growled, "If all you need is me, I insist you free the crew."

"Well, that was a slip of the tongue, Monsieur Turner. You see, I also need a crew." With a snap of his fingers, the large brute holding Will's shirt collar tossed him into the brig, knocking him into Cotton and Marty, the latter toppling over to the ground. Slipping to bring himself upright, Will raced to the bars only to have them greet his palms. "Any attempt to escape will do you no good, Turner. There is someone who has invested a large amount of faith…and promises…in me for bringing you to them—extra if I supply a crew."

Will's jaw dropped, the saliva and sweat on his lips evaporating into the air. Everyone he knew was now in Port Royal, more than one person depending on him to return with the _Pearl. _Except one. Just ask, you fool. There is no promise you'll hear the truth. Then what is the harm in asking?

"Is it my father?" he whispered, eyes glistening in anticipation. He knew how childish it came out, the same volume and tone he would use when he would bombard down the steps whenever there was a knock on the door. Mother would have to tell him it was just a neighbor, that his father wouldn't be back for several more days.

"Good Lord, no! What would I have to gain from some mediocre pirate left at the bottom of the ocean? No, Turner, although sending some of these sorry sots to the bottom of the ocean sounds very pleasant."

A thud resounded behind Captain Chevalle. Anamaria's legs jerked and bucked until she backed her captor into the bulkhead of the ship. Gibbs followed suit, the man holding him still gazing dumbstruck at his fallen counterpart. Hobbling down, he took the key ring from the man's belt and tossed it to Will. His heart skipping a beat at the click of the lock, Will dove down and unsheathed one of the fallen men's swords. He turned just in time for it to clang against Captain Chevalle's.

"Free of the rest of the crew!" he ordered, tossing the key ring to whoever could grab it first. Gibbs caught it and dodged the array of swords now swinging at Will and Anamaria to reach the other cell.

Will turned his attention back to Captain Chevalle and twisted his heels to let himself slide backwards toward the steps. "Clear out!" he shouted to the mass of arms and legs bursting forth from the cell. Only the vibrant blue and yellow hues of Cotton's parrot gave away that it was the crew he had sailed with only days ago.

"No!" Captain Chevalle shouted, swiping at Will left and right with his sword. The crew climbed up the steps on either side of him. He would be run through if this chaos continued, he thought. Think. He had been able to think so quickly before. What was it Gibbs had said? Daft like Jack? Well, if thinking like Jack can get us out of here on time… Holding his breath, he lifted his leg and kicked Captain Chevalle's torso in one swift motion. It was just enough time to run up the steps and back into the night, back to the _Pearl. _

* * *

**A/N: Whew, what an adventure, right? The best is yet to come. Promise! I watched COTBP on TV last night and was so inspired, so charged. I hope I have been able to do justice not only to the main trio, which I adore, but also to the ensemble. So much bonds our three main heroes to each other in this first movie, completely setting us up for the more character-driven DMC. The goal of this fic is to fill that gap. Please leave a review to let me know if I'm accomplishing that. **

**If you like my work and wish to read it in order, it goes _The Pirate in Her, Love's Conspiracies, One or the Other, _and _The Bird's Nest. _Set before, during, and after all of these is _The Sparrow's Journey. _I keep the same continuity for all my POTC fics except _In the Cards, _which is an AU fic. Sorry for that bit of self-promotion, but I've had questions before if there is a certain order people should read my works.**

**Okay...don't own this series and never will, but reviews make me feel like I do!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Thank you, everyone who has reviewed! There will be one more chapter after this one. I would love to keep going with it, but you can only make a matter of days last so long and I'm covering such a specific moment in time, that it has no choice but to end soon. I'm having a lot of fun with this one.**

* * *

He hanged tomorrow. There was no note from Will. Will was probably dead in a dark alley in Tortuga, cursing her for letting him go with his last breath. Sitting at her father's desk in their library, Elizabeth held her head in her hands, her hair falling over her fingers in front of her face. Her elbows had bruised from the force she had dropped them onto the desk when she collapsed into the chair. Shaking her head back and forth, she followed the patterns in the wood with her eyes. It was enough to take a swig of rum herself.

"I thought I might bring you this, miss, might cheer you up," Estrella said.

"What is it, my last will and testament?"

"Just some milk. Oh, Miss Elizabeth, you're so brave. You just have to go on being brave." Estrella gripped both her shoulders and patted them. "Mr. Turner will return in time."

"What if he doesn't?"

"Mustn't think that, miss. If you don't mind my saying so, it really isn't doing you any good sitting here dwelling on it."

"You're right." She sat up and peered at the shelves to her right, filled with maps and charts with all the tools for plotting a course lying on top of them. She knew the basics of how to use them, could chart a course, but it would take her all night, her knowledge nowhere near the depth of someone who sailed all the time. Jack would need a course because he wouldn't hang, she thought. To follow a course, one needed a heading. Because he wouldn't hang. He would need a course, which reminded her…

"Estrella, tell Fisher to ready the carriage. We're going to pay a call on Commodore Norrington."

* * *

"We're going to make it in time, Will," Anamaria said, coming up behind Will. He could see why Jack loved this ship so, the way a man felt gripping the helm with both hands, guiding the ship through the rough waters. How could bobbing up and down the turbulent waves be such a calming force, allow him to think so clearly? He hadn't even heard her approach.

"I hope so. I have a feeling we will." It was a strong feeling, too. So strong he could instead worry about the "her" Captain Chevalle had mentioned. "Anamaria, what do you know of Captain Chevalle?"

"He's a pirate lord," she said, resting her elbows on the railing. "One of nine. He's French, obviously. Never bought a ship from me and my brother, so I couldn't say more than that."

"He was working for someone else," Will said, more to himself than to her. If Elizabeth were here, she could help him figure it out. He had probably worried her sick with his last note, and now that she wouldn't receive another one at all before he returned…well, her fiancé would not approve of her receiving letters from other men in the first place. He had not meant to sound so condescending, so judging of her in the caverns when he told her that her fiancé would want to know she was safe. But she took it that way, tears welling up in the eyes of the one person he swore he would never ever hurt.

"What are you really thinking about, Will?" Anamaria crossed behind the helm and pulled herself up to sit on the railing behind it.

"Where I go from here."

"You know, if anyone'd have a shot to be the new blood on this ship, it'd be you," Gibbs said, climbing the steps to join them, his flask in his hand. "Jack don't take to too many people."

"Least of all people who run off with his ship," Anamaria said, raising her eyebrow at Gibbs. Thank goodness they'd driven Chevalle and his men off that ship, Will thought, smiling to himself at the memory of the wigged captain tumbling over after a swift kick. Now she had a ship of her own to go back to, and the last thing Jack would need once he was free was something dwelling on his mind like that.

"Yeah, well," Gibbs coughed. "He and I go back. Hell, he'll just be so happy to have the _Pearl _he won't care whatever I did. Join us, Will. What be waitin' for ye in Port Royal, hmm? More blacksmith duties?"

Will's back tensed. Was there anything worth his stay? Once Elizabeth married, he would see even less of her than he already did, the duties of the wife of a Naval officer far outweighing any nostalgic ties she had to old friends she pulled from the water years ago. Friends. She certainly hadn't looked at him like they were friends, hadn't for a long time, and yet he never took the risk. Well, he was taking risks now, risking his fragile freedom Governor Swann gave him, willing to pretend the whole incident never happened. He could find his father out on the open sea, gather his thoughts…

"What say you, Will?" Anamaria asked, edging closer to him, a leering expression on her face. Good God, the woman must be insatiable. William Turner the Pirate? The taste of it still left the roof of his mouth bitter.

"We'll see what happens."

* * *

"Elizabeth! What a pleasant surprise!" James greeted her at the door, bending down to kiss her hand when she knew he eagerly awaited kissing more. Just do it, she swallowed, cramming a grin onto her guilt-ridden face.

"James." She plastered her hands onto the lapels of his coat, contorting her face into angelic innocence. "You must be so nervous about tomorrow."

"Not at all," he said, guiding her inside with a hand placed between her shoulder blades. "There might be some contrived escape attempt, but I have nearly every soldier I have at my disposal. Might I offer you a drink? Mary should be around here somewhere."

Mary, Elizabeth remembered. James had had her since he moved to Port Royal, giving her full use of the house to live in it as her own when he was away at sea for long months. All the little old lady had to do in exchange was cook his meals and clean up the miniscule mess he made of his cottage. A bit of pipe tobacco still smoked from his tray and a few pages of half-written sheet music lay scattered in the corner, but aside from those items, it was a pristine living room. It had to be here. She had seen it just the other day.

"Yes. Just some water sounds lovely," she breathed, her eyes scanning every chair. At last she spotted a pistol, worn and scratched, with what looked like a black box next to it. Jack's compass. Every pirate needs a heading to do his plundering, she thought, crossing over to the pair of objects setting on the fireplace mantle. She held up her hand.

"I can't tell you how happy I am to see you," she heard James from behind her with a long-stemmed glass in his hand. Her back to the fireplace, she lifted her arms and extended them until her wrists could nudge the mantle, feigning a long and drawn-out stretch. This way he should come to her.

"Just set it there on the table," she said. "I came, James, because I want to discuss setting a date with you." Other than the days he taught her to sail, he had never been so close to her, his eyes memorizing every little dip of her lips. There had been one Christmas where he bent over her while she strummed the guitar for carols, but that was different. Now they were engaged. She had kissed his cheeks a few times, but… "I've always wanted a summer wedding. Say, this time next year?"

"Oh, Elizabeth, anything you like. I was afraid at first you were dreading it."

"Never." Dropping her arms down from the mantle, she threw them around him and nestled her head onto his chest with enough momentum to turn them around so she faced the fireplace. God forgive me. But she could no longer depend on a pirate crew. Even if Will found them, she had seen what happened when one of their own needed their help. They'd all stared at her like she was a Gorgon when she attempted to rally them, throwing that damned Code in her face. Her shoulders and chest still ached from all that rowing. She needed to move her head up.

"Oh, James." With one motion, she closed her eyes and kissed his lips, her hands clasping over the dip where his head met his neck. She had no brothers or sisters, oh how she wished she did, but that was what it had to be like, kissing an older brother. But the closest image her mind could conjure was her father. She could feel her lips tighten in disgust.

His eyes closed. She forced his mouth open, eliciting a wanton moan from him. Opening one eye, she let go of him with one hand to reach up, snatch the compass, and stuff it into her pocket. Breaking the kiss as quickly as she began it, she cast her eyes to the ground, the back of her hand covering her lips.

"Excuse me," she whispered, running out the front door. Let him think whatever, that passion had overridden her modesty for a brief moment, that the realization of her forbidden action humiliated her to the point she had to leave. Running all the way into the carriage, she held her hand to her lips the entire way, wishing the memory of it could be wiped away from them. Never, not even that fateful day he proposed did she imagine James Norrington would be her first kiss. Never again, she swore, clutching the compass until her knuckles turned white and began to shake. Where was Will? She wanted Will here, now, in this carriage beside her telling her that it was all right, that she was every bit the good person she tried so hard to be. Shutting her eyes, she pictured his face, remembered what their hands touching felt like.

But you wronged him too, my dear, she told herself. She was the cause of his outburst down below decks on the _Interceptor_. If she had just given him back that medallion eight years ago instead of waiting for every pirate this side of England to come their way looking for it, throwing his own pirate heritage in his face. She had never seen Will like that. If he knew she had just kissed another man…a groggy laugh erupted from her throat before it turned into a sniffle. He wasn't even hers or she his to elicit any jealousy.

And here she was frustrated like nothing else with him because he was not here yet, because Jack still waited in that cell. When she went to see him this morning, she gave in and kissed his knuckles. It wasn't the same thing, she shook her head. He's going to hang tomorrow.

Unless some marvelous, unlikely miracle took place, she would lose all three men tomorrow, just in different ways. Bringing her knees up to her chest, her heavy skirt cascading down past the seat of the carriage, Elizabeth rested her forehead on them and let out a series of magnificent sobs.

* * *

Elizabeth pushed through the crowd, abandoning her father and James at the entrance to the fort. There had been no sleep for her last night, replaced with novice attempts at charting the quickest and yet the most covert course out of Port Royal. No such course existed, not one she could create, anyway. The compass weighed down the pocket of her skirt, slightly too large to be wedged in there in the first place. Her heels clanked against the cobblestone, her fan used to shove past the crowd rather than keep the heat off of her.

There he was, his chains replaced with ropes, four guards surrounding him. Why did people have to be so heavy, she thought, pushing through one last row of onlookers.

"Jack!"

Raising up her arm to get his attention and using her other one to keep from tripping over her hem, she broke through the crowd and nearly fell right into him. The arm that had his brand singed into it nudged up to keep her from falling. Just as well he was unusually silent. Even more unusual, she could not read this new look he gave her, unable to tell if he was looking for some strange third eye on her face or if he pitied this new madwoman rushing at him.

Taking advantage of the lack of resistance the guards showed her, she braced herself against Jack just long enough to transfer the compass from her pocket to one of his, closer to him than when he pointed his pistol at her and practically made her dress him in front of everyone.

How does one apologize for being so useless and at the same time say goodbye, she wondered. Her palm found the side of his face and turned it towards her. Unable to meet his eyes, she kept them focused on the ground while she neared his face.

It could not really be considered a kiss, more a peck on his cheek, her lips burning from the contact.

Before he could even respond, his guards led him down through the archway to the gallows. She fought to catch her breath, something in her melting and leaving a heavy puddle inside her.

"Father, don't do this," she said, mouth still sizzling, a tingling torture making her wish her body would just go numb. She gripped her father's arm.

"Elizabeth, my dearest, I know. I know." He pulled her to him and gave her back a few pats before escorting her through the archway. She had seen a hanging before, a few in fact, but never one for her rescuer, her comrade in arms, her friend. Turning her head, she caught sight of James. He jerked his head back towards the proceedings, more out of embarrassment than of snubbing her, she knew. She knew him well enough to know he blamed himself for losing his self-control and allowing himself to be kissed so…her lips chilled at the word…passionately. If Mary had seen it would have been enough grounds for a scandal. The listing of Jack's crimes provided an awkward chorus to her musings. She tugged on a strand of her hair for a while, crinkling it around her fingers until it tangled. Why should kissing his cheek make her eyes roll back when a full kiss on the mouth with James made her think of her father? It was enough to make one's head spin.

"You've never played with your hair before. Are you all right?" Father asked. James leapt to her side as well, bending down and taking her arm as if she were about to swoon to the ground right between the two of them. "I can take you back out if you'd rather not watch."

"I'm fine," she snapped, rebuffing both of them and opening her fan. "This is wrong."

"Commodore Norrington is bound by the law," Father said. "As are we all." There it was. That moral superiority that usually won her heart again and again now felt more harsh than Barbossa's sword slicing into her palm. She could no longer hear the words, her eyes on Jack, praying her unlikely miracle would come.

"Governor Swann. Commodore. Elizabeth."

Will. Will! Her eyes widened at the sight of him. He was back. He was back! Her heart raced at the sight of him. He seemed all right, and no worse for wear, she had to say. And he looked like he had a plan.

"I should have told you every day from the moment I met you. I love you."

She froze, her head feeling about to swivel off of her neck. Her speechless form watched Will disappear back into the crowd. Scanning for him, she found another familiar face perched just above everyone's heads. Cotton's parrot batted its wings at her, almost a wave hello.

The _Black Pearl _could not be far away.

"I can't breathe!" she gasped, her fingers reaching out in front of her for either her father or James. She slumped to the ground, her eyes shut for effect. She could feel them hovering over her, fanning her face and burrowing under her back to gain leverage. The creak of the gallows pounded on her ears. She snapped her head up, eyes wide and ready for a fight. Will's sword acted as a wobbly branch for Jack's legs. Scrambling to her feet, Elizabeth ran straight into the crowd, knowing Will and Jack were already far ahead of her. She broke into a run, a deep grin dominating her face. She ran, ran with her arms out like a bird, the warm breeze kissing her face with freedom. Next time she would have a sword. Next time she would fight by both their sides.

"Wait!" her father yelled, but she refused to turn back. The rush of red coats in front of her told her Will and Jack were making short work of everything standing in their way, each one fighting with a primal desperation she was finding more and more intoxicating, enough so she would dive off the fort and onto the _Pearl _herself, heedless of whoever might try to stop her. We're rascals, scoundrels, villains, and knaves, drink up, me hearties, yo ho…we're devils and black sheep and really bad eggs, drink up, me hearties yo ho!

At last she had to come to a halt, too many coats in front of her, swords out and glistening in the late spring sunlight.

"On our return to Port Royal I granted you clemency, and this is how you thank me? By throwing in your lot with him? He's a pirate!"

"And a good man!" Will's assertion drowned out her father's disappointment. "If all I have achieved here is that the hangman will earn two pairs of boots instead of one, so be it. At least my conscience will be clear."

"You forget your place, Turner," James snarled at him.

"It's right here, between you and Jack."

Elizabeth could stand it no longer. Marching right past every guard, right past James, she stood with the two of them.

"As is mine."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed. This is the last chapter. I had several goals for this fic...making sure James wasn't dismissed as a dope, making Will actually sympathetic and interesting, giving Jack something to do even though he's wallowing in prison for most of the story, making sure Elizabeth isn't seen as a bitch even though she's at the center of this big love quadrangle that only expands into a web once Sao Feng gets involved... Anyways, please leave a review and tell me if I've accomplished these goals and I hope you have enjoyed my story. - Willo**

* * *

Ten Months Later

"Enter," Beckett sighed, each knock, each business associate simply a distraction from locating that chest. He'd journeyed to Tortuga and rounded up the living squalor inhabiting it and after all excruciation, all the torment, he knew nothing he did not already know. The goddess Calypso deserted Davy Jones, thus spawning the true terror of the seven seas. The key and the chest were the only hope anyone had of usurping that power. The thought of it still made Bekett harden more than the most buxom whore or the most coquettish lady, or the most captivating individual he had ever…

"Cutler Beckett?"

"Sir Cutler Beckett, if you don't mind. What brings you here to see me personally?"

It was a woman, a dark one at that. She was either very brave or very foolish to come to him. He reminded himself if she said one thing he didn't like, he could have Mercer bind her and sell her to work with the sugar cane in one of the nearby islands for any price he liked.

"I been let down too many times by too many pirate lords," she said, her accent forcing him to lean forward so as not to miss a word. "I watch over 'em, ya see, and when one gets asked to do somethin' for me, nothin' I get. But you…ye lookin' for da most famous key of all time."

"Go on."

"Da key dat go into da Davy Jones chest?"

"You know where it is?"

"I do not." She paused, a snake-like smile spreading across her face, exposing high cheekbones and ravaged teeth. "But how ya can get it, I know."

"How?" The most insidious sugar cane field in the entire world if she was lying!

"You know dat smart man Jack got more lives dan a cat."

"How does he fit into all this?" There was only one Jack he knew of that she could mean.

"Let me tell ya somethin' interesting about clever Jack."

* * *

Elizabeth sat at the dining room table by herself in the glow of the candlelight. Plates needing cleaned, napkins needing to be folded, paper and boxes strewn—a veritable mess, she decided with a smile. It had been the first birthday James had missed, and she felt his absence. But after opening a box of paints and a shawl from Will, she forgot Father had invited the servants to join in the festivities when she jumped up into Will's arms and kissed him when he presented her with a book detailing the journeys of Marco Polo. It was the greatest gift he had given her since the sword he had fashioned just for her. Father apologized for her and Will hugged her to him…overall a more than satisfying birthday.

It didn't matter so much that James was gone, had been for months, chasing Jack from one end of the world to the other, the likes of which she had only her books to be able to imagine such a chase. It really was a satisfying birthday. Earlier, Will showed off the risk taker in him…she did bring it out of him, after all…and kissed her when they were alone on the back balcony before dinner, not caring who saw, just two more months until their wedding.

So why are you just sitting here watching the candles flicker, she asked herself, her fingers playing with her lip. Are you worried about James? Of course. She'd been worried about him ever since the day she broke off their engagement. He had not spoken to her since then. The day after, he bid goodbye to Father, declined the offer to come in and say goodbye to her, and left.

She worried about Jack. There were times she worried to the point she caught herself wringing the skin of her hands until they chafed. Did he escape the hanging just to land in deeper trouble? It seemed like him. She wouldn't be surprised if he'd need Will's help again, as well as her own. But it was foolish to think about him for too long. When one is just a footnote in the other one's life, the footnote can't hope to be even a chapter. Did he think about her at all? Why should she care if he did? Just because her lips still twitched at the memory of kissing his cheek, she should think she meant more to him than all the other women in the world he had been with, really been with, and yet managed not to destroy any of his rum? Just because no other person's eyes could make her forget herself so easily… Rising from the table, she walked through the foyer to make her way to her room. Safe in a large house, engaged to a wonderful man, the apple of her father's eye, her shoulders and arms still sore from her latest swordfight lesson—there was much for which to be grateful.

"Miss Elizabeth, these were at the door."

"What is it, Fisher?" she yawned, stretching her back by grabbing hold of the banister and leaning back as far as she could.

"These, miss." Fisher held a glass vase filled with orchids, each five-petaled wonder looking like it was dipped in a rainbow of reds and pinks and whites, entwined into a color seldom seen in nature except when flowers were concerned. She touched them, the vibrant smell filling the foyer. "Is there a card, miss?"

Elizabeth's hands shook, rearranging the orchids until she could see down into the vase. Tied to one of the stems was a plain scrap of parchment with only one word penned into it. _Lizzie._

"I'll just take these upstairs. They'll get plenty of sun at my window, I should think." Cleaving the vase to her heaving chest, she let the petals tickle her chin up the stairs, remembering the last time he'd surprised her. It had been a night like this, catching him and listening to him tell her it was only to burglarize her father. She had come up these stairs, sword in hand, only to fight him and have to look into his eyes and tell him she could not go with him. The thin hairs on the back of her neck prickled, remembering his lips on them. Lord, why had he done that? She had not even told Estrella everything she felt that night. The way he had asked her to go with him, so dire.

Biting her lip, she raced into her room and closed the door, feeling the action of setting the vase at her window required absolute privacy. They complimented the room. No. The room complimented them.

Tucking herself in between her blankets, she blew out her candle and stared up at the ceiling in the darkness. Jack remembered her. It was so selfish, she thought. Better to have him forget me. But it couldn't be all that bad. It wasn't as if he lied awake night after night pining for her. But she giggled, flattered at the thought.

Turning on her side so she could watch the silhouettes of her orchids against the moonlight, Elizabeth nuzzled her face into her pillow to muffle her giggles. Oh, Jack, she sighed. If only there was something I could give you in return. A soft rain drizzled down her window, the splattering of each little raindrop relaxing her. She'd always loved the rain at night, and let the downpour lull her to sleep with a smile on her face.

* * *

Jack yawned, kicking off his boots, his shift at the helm over for the night. In what would feel like the longest weeks of his life, weather permitting, he would step onto Constantinople's shores and find the likeness of a certain key that would lock away the last ten years from memory, well, most of it. It hadn't been all bad. He rubbed his eyes, his bed whistling at him from the side, but not yet. No. A captain's work is never done. That's why the first captain that set sail for the very first time invented rum.

Pouring himself just a small glass, he limped back to his chair and shuffled through his charts. Ah, he thought, sifting through quill pens, a few coins, and a sextant until he found his timepiece. It would be just a few hours into nighttime in Port Royal, logic dictating Lizzie now had her flowers. Rubbing the bruises that ran from his knee all the way up to his thigh like a painful pearl necklace, he shook his head. She better enjoy them for all he went through to get them. Flowers are quite the novelty to one who is married to the sea…and whose time is ticking away day by day. The nightmares increased, filled with scaly tentacles that smelled of salt and fish so all-encompassing he could never tell if they were the beard of Davy Jones or the sucking, smothering limbs of the kraken. Just a few more weeks, he repeated to himself, sipping the rum with a shaking hand.

"Captain?"

Then there was the matter of finding the chest once he procured the key, and his compass had not been good to him lately.

"Captain?"

Blasted, bloody thing. Had he not taken special care of it all these years? Hadn't worked since she lodged it into his pocket. He would gladly go back to Tia Dalma and exchange it for something else, but he refused to go back there, not unless it was absolutely necessary. She was too much of a force to be reckoned with and time did not permit any forces to be reckoned with now. Didn't it owe him the most fundamental aspect of its nature, which was to just plain work?

"Jack?"

"What? Enter!"

"Just seein' if ye wanted the rest of me lobster," Gibbs said, pushing open the door, his other hand busy juggling his plate. "Right good stuff, but I'm apt to burst if I eat anymore."

"Sure. Let's send that thing my way, shall we?" Jack said, shoving a few of his charts onto the floor of the cabin. He kicked his bookshelf he made for the inside of his desk with his boot until the plate was set out in front of him. There was not to be any sleeping for a while anyway. If one thing didn't enter his mind, another one did, and he didn't much care for either.

"No more detours if I'm to be understandin' ye?" Gibbs asked, still standing and with both eyebrows raised.

"Aye. Time is short."

"Ye have what, a few more months?"

"If that."

"Well, once we get our hands on that key, things'll be looking our way for once. We'll be getting' that key, Jack. And then ye can do whatever you want to do."

He returned Gibbs' smile, savoring the lobster in his mouth. Not everything, but enough. A clap of thunder boomed above them, followed by a hard panging of raindrops on the sails and deck.

"Bit of storm comin' in from nowhere," Gibbs remarked, taking a bit of the lobster and shoving it in his mouth.

"I like that sound. Always have." Jack said, not sure why he cared to divulge that bit of information. He rubbed his eyes and held his breath for a second to listen to what he hoped would not turn out to be a squall.

"You was born in weather like this, wasn't ye?" Gibbs asked, frowning at a second rumble of thunder.

"Not nearly as calm as this, mate." Sighing, he peered over at his bed, the blankets still winding around each other from the nightmare-filled night before. But an optimistic note struck Jack at the sight of it, the rain telling him he would find that key, and then the chest, and then everything he could ever hope to want. But maybe it was just the realization sleep would come easier tonight. "Leave the plate, Mister Gibbs. I'll be wanting me alone time."

"Aye, Jack."

Jack waited for him to close the door on his way out before sitting on his bed with a heavy sigh. He looked forward to closing his eyes tonight, not wanting to fight what he imagined when he closed them anymore during that strange time between awake and asleep. Turning onto his stomach, he smiled at the image in his mind. You enjoy those orchids, love. Meanwhile I prepare to be some leviathan's lunch. No, he mouthed again. You'll find that key and chest and make things right. _The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars but in ourselves. _Jack smiled, sleep beginning to come his way. These coming months would be the stuff of legend. After all, he was Captain Jack Sparrow.

The End...


End file.
